


Wings

by ColourOfNight



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Nosebleed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 17:00:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17964488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColourOfNight/pseuds/ColourOfNight
Summary: Brownie decides to surprise B-52.Oh, it's a surprise, alright...





	Wings

**Author's Note:**

> What if – what if B52 could change his wings? Like a prosthetic limb, but... well, his wings. 
> 
> Couldn't help but add that good old nosebleed trope in there. ;)

There was something wrong.

Brownie had been slightly nervous around him lately, and sneaking off somewhere in his spare time. This was making B-52 uneasy, for reasons he couldn't quite understand.

One morning, B-52 woke up feeling a little cold. He reached over, to pull Brownie closer to him, but found nothing. The sheets were still slightly warm – the space hadn't been empty for too long. It was then that he noticed that something was amiss, and he snapped fully awake.

_Where are my wings?_

He'd taken them off before sleep, a habit recently developed since he'd started sharing the room with Brownie (and therefore the bed). Leaping up, he quickly got changed, grabbed his cane, and dashed out of his room furiously.

The restaurant was quiet, and it was suspicious at this time of the morning. Usually, Master Attendant was cleaning the tables, or someone was starting to cook. He paused, listening for any clues. He heard nothing with his normal hearing, so decided to use his more advanced scanners. There were plenty of sounds, like the birds in the trees and distant vehicles, but he could also hear voices. So he focused on the voices.

The voices seemed to be coming from one of Master Attendant's outbuildings, one of the ones used for storage. As he went out and approached them, he could make out the voices and sounds of work without his scanners. Master Attendant, Brownie, and the gentle working of machinery and tools. B-52 paused outside the door and decided to listen.

“Brownie, can you hand me the other screwdriver?”

“Master Attendant, here.” There was a pause. “...do you really think they'll work?” There was a quiet huff.

“Well, that's why I asked you to bring his wings down.” There was another pause. “I know, you feel guilty, but...” There was a loud clang. “...there was no way of checking without a direct comparison. Especially for the, uh, backup plan.” Yet another pause. There was a gentle rustling.

“I just hope he likes it.”

“I hope so too, Brownie.”

“I'm just worried he'll be...” Brownie's voice sounded a bit shaky. “...angry, and I-”

B-52 couldn't stand to hear Brownie's distress and burst in, not sure about what he was feeling. The scene in front of him didn't really help.

“Brownie!?” Both Brownie and Master Attendant looked startled, but B-52 was more focused on the small tears in Brownie's eyes. Nobody moved. Then, slowly, B-52 began to take in the whole scene.

The outbuilding seemed to have been turned into a workshop. There were various bits of machinery, tool racks, a plethora of metal bits, and enough drawers to contain pretty much anything possible. In the middle of the space, there was a massive table. It appeared to be covered in a mass of mostly feathers, with bits of gleaming metal showing through.

Master Attendant started stuttering out an apology before muttering something about opening the restaurant to excuse themselves from the workshop quickly. B-52 looked at Brownie, who was still a little flustered.

“I- Er- I can-” Brownie was slightly teary, and a little flushed. B-52 decided to be direct, trying his best to keep a neutral look on his face.

“What's going on, Brownie?” B-52 moved closer to Brownie, who was trying to put words together. There was a moment before Brownie spoke.

“I wanted to surprise you, B...” Brownie gestured to the table. “Your wings, I... Well...”

Brownie explained that he'd originally had the idea of making spare wings for B-52, and the idea of having them look different came later. Master Attendant had turned the outbuilding into a dedicated workshop for B-52's maintenance and helped draw up the blueprints for potential wing structures.

“It's just that... I know sometimes you don't like how your wings look...” Brownie then started to move the pile of feathers on the table. “So...” The pile of feathers turned out to be feathery wings. B-52 stretched out his hands to touch them.

_What is this feeling?_

He suddenly realised that his vision was getting blurry, and his heart was pounding against his ribs. Then his face felt wet, and he touched his face with curiosity.

_Am I leaking?_

Brownie nearly tackled him, wrapping his arms around the now crying B-52.

“Oh god, B,” Brownie's voice was shaking. Fear, maybe? “I'm so sorry, I can-”

“I don't deserve such beautiful modifications.” Brownie's grip tightened before he loosened up, reaching up to wipe B-52's tears away.

“Of course you do.” B-52 slowly put his arms around Brownie, pulling him into an almost bone-crushing hug.

“Then I don't deserve-” Brownie gently put his finger over B-52's lips.

“You haven't even tried them, yet,” Brownie chuckled. “We don't even know if you can use the new wing type.”

It took some time to attach the new wings to B-52's back. They hurt, and felt wrong, to begin with, but it wasn't too long before B-52 was moving them.

They weren't much more painful than his usual wings when he got used to them.

The next question was if he could fly with them, and for that, Brownie gently led him outside. Once outside, B-52 stretched them out, trying to feel the wind with them. He flapped them a few times, before finally taking off. He did a few circles in the air before looking down at Brownie.

There was blood streaming from the butler's nose, staining his shirt with red streaks. Brownie looked like he was going to faint with a grin on his face, so B-52 came down fast, reaching his hand out towards the now-pale butler.

“Brownie?!” B-52 grabbed Brownie - whose eyes had widened in a weird expression - taking him in his arms before taking flight once more, fully intending to get Brownie to the First-Aid Room as soon as he could. Brownie was grinning.

“You're like an angel, B.” Brownie then wrapped his arms around B-52's neck. He kissed B-52 on the nose, causing B-52 to get flustered. They fell out the air with a startled yell – and B-52 was barely able to land safely.

**

“Are you sure you're alright, Brownie?” Brownie shifted closer to B-52 with a grin. They'd both been checked over by the medical team, and there were no serious injuries. Now they were sitting on the roof of the restaurant, B-52 having put on his old wings again, and Brownie in a clean uniform.

“Oh yes.” Brownie's arm found its way around the taller food soul's waist. “I've got an angel to save me, after all.” B-52's face went a bright crimson.

They agreed to save the feathered wings for special occasions. If only to save Brownie from having to clean blood from his uniform.

**Author's Note:**

> One of my friends loves trying to re-design his fake leg, and this is kind of inspired by the time we all banded together to make one of his ideas into reality.
> 
> We pulled off the whole surprise thing off a lot better, though, since there were no flight engineering considerations to take into account.
> 
> ...who am I kidding. I spent half an hour trying to pick the lock on his new leg because he locked the damn keys in there along with his wallet. This happened twice that same night. We changed the lock to a magnetic clasp the next day. It was easier.


End file.
